“That girl you brought up here a couple nights ago?”
His gut clenched. “Yeah?”
“Saw her hoofing it down the western slope toward the main gate.”
Chapter
Eleven
Bexar-Wolfe Lodge, Northern Virginia
Plunging through the dense overgrowth of the treed hillside, Brighton had to get as far from Stone Metcalfe as possible before he noticed her absence. She’d have to call Cord, tell him she needed somewhere else to stay. Anywhere else. What had he been thinking bringing her here? How had he ever thought Stone would accept this, her?
“What, are you trying to ruin everything in my life?”
His feral words made her stumble. Her foot caught on a fallen branch. Twisted her leg. Sent her sprawling. Hands shoved into a soggy spot, mud splashing her face as pain corkscrewed through her muscle. With a yelp, she stayed on all fours. Cried. Dug her fingers into the mud and strangled a shriek. This wasn’t the life she’d wanted?—men using her, losing a piece of her soul every time. To be thrown at the mercy of the one she’d thought different. The one man she’d started to …
“No,” she gritted out. She wouldn’t say it. And crying wouldn’t do any good. She pushed to her feet and felt a sharp pain tear through her ankle. Wincing, she guessed she’d sprained?—or strained?—it. Maybe fractured. But she wasn’t quitting. And she wasn’t staying here. She couldn’t. Not anymore.
He would never forgive her. Any doubt about that had been erased in the last week. At least she didn’t have to wonder anymore. Or dream.
Wiping muddy hands on her jeans, she hobbled a few steps more. But each attempt to move on only sent painful daggers up her leg. Using a tree for stability, she beat the heel of her hand against it, giving vent to her fury.
Why? Why couldn’t just one thing in her life go right? Why couldn’t she catch a break? She hated herself for her part in Ladomer’s scheme, but even more, she hated herself for foolishly thinking Stone would turn out different from the other men. That what they’d had wasn’t him just being another client.
Fool!! Fool fool fool!
She had to get out of here. She’d make Cord understand this was the worst possible scenario. Brighton dug through her backpack and found the burner phone. One-time use. If she called, asked for a new place, that was it. She couldn’t use it again.
Which was fine. She wouldn’t need to use it again.
She turned it on and opened the contacts to the single number stored there. But her mind took a winding path?—what if she made this call and … somehow Ladomer traced it … came here …
Oh, if he found her here with Stone … there’d be no mercy. From either man. Ladomer would punish her in cruel ways for going to another man??—not that she’d done that, but he’d see it that way. And Stone would be in danger and livid that she brought Ladomer to the lodge.
Haven’t you done enough already?
Either way, she lost. And she’d end up back in Baltimore … working …
Thumping the phone against her forehead, she tried to figure out what to do. Staying here wasn’t an option. She needed out. She’d rather go back to work than meet Stone’s fury every day.
She slid to the ground, hugging her pack, and peered up at the tree limbs and sky. Tears blurred the greens and blue. Would she ever be happy? She snorted. Forget happy. She just wanted to be safe. Not wondering what would happen when she met clients. Not running scared. Was “safe” possible? Would she ever be loved after all she’d done, all the men …?
This was Stone’s fault. He’d done this??—given her that false hope. Tricked her into believing happily ever after might actually be a real thing that happened in life. It just proved she was an idiot. Tears, scalding and furious, raced down her cheeks.
God, where are you?
She sniffed, her nose starting to run from her crying. Where had God been all these years when Ladomer sold her body to men?
Donning his hat as he strode up the hill to his truck, Stone called the front desk and told Oscar he’d be back in a few. With Grief, Stone hurried to his truck parked behind the cabin and all but ran into Brooke strolling down the trail.
“What’s going on?” Brooke called.
“She took off.” Stone banked left toward his driveway, pulling the keys from his pocket.
“What’re you going to do to her?”
He skated his sister a glower. “What do you think? Remember, I’m a buffoon.”
